Operation Red Witch
by Soul Reaver
Summary: While in the Middle East on a case involving a survivor from an Israeli patrol in the Sinai desert, Harm and Mac uncover more than they bargain for...Warning: Harm and Mac shipper reporting for duty...
1. Contact

Contact  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own JAG. However the members of the Israeli Special Forces unit and Lt. Colonel Jesse Danilov, Israeli Defense Force are my creation.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Dramatis Personae:  
  
Eight men against an army:  
  
David Beditzko - A Jewish immigrant from Russia in his mid thirties and in command of Israeli Special Forces patrol Red Witch. He was the bastard son of a Russian Spetznatz commando and is now in his early thirties. Special Operations are his bread and butter.  
  
Avi Makhal - An Arab-Israeli from Haifa, age 29, he is a strong, powerful man often called 'The Rock' for his rock solid determination and strength. An avid weightlifter his strong personality is complemented by his strong physique and contrasted by his gentle personality.  
  
Ramon Hedaya - A former member of the Spanish Civil Guard at the age of thirty-five who immigrated to Israel to fight the Hamas terrorist group after his family died on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. His war is a personal war.  
  
Martin Danilov - The most purposeful and determined man in the Special Forces, age 27. His uncle Jesse, an Israeli military lawyer is on an exchange tour in the United States at JAG. He is strong physically as well as mentally and is the son of a Catholic Ukrainian immigrant to Israel and his American wife.  
  
Benjamin Ari - An idealistic nineteen year old from Tel Aviv who believes fully in the Israeli cause and a newcomer to the unit his youth belies his capabilities.  
  
Gerard Prideaux - A thirty year old Frenchman who served five years in the French Foreign Legion then immigrated to Israel to fight the HAMAS terrorist group after losing his wife to one of their attacks.  
  
Haru Ali - The second unit newcomer, a tall gangly youth who was a former student mullah until the September 11th attacks. He vowed he would punish the 'Al-Quaida dogs who have made a mockery of Islam.'  
  
Andrew Whitehurst - The third newcomer is a former religious student and son of an American Jewish Orthodox Rabbi, he immigrated to Israel following the suicide attacks in Gaza in order to combat the plague of terrorism. He is a pale, bespectacled twenty year old who is deceptively stronger than he appears.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Sinai Desert 01 May 2003 2345 Local Time  
  
The forward operating base on the Egyptian/Israeli border was a beehive activity, as eight men gathered up their weapons and equipment. David Beditzko allowed himself a small grin as he watched the seven men under his command gather around their Humvee. They came from all around the world, from different religions and backgrounds. Despite their disparities, there was one Muslim, four Jews, and three Roman Catholics and countries of origin that ranged from France to Russia they fought together on many operations in the Gaza Strip and West Bank areas. There were three new men on the roster, all of whom were exceptional young soldiers in their respective units, and they had transferred into the Special Forces of the Israeli state. They had developed the close bond that only those who serve together in high stress combat units could.  
  
At thirty-four years old David Beditzko, a bastard child of a Russian commando, was ironically following his father's line of work. A tough no- nonsense commander as well as a skilled warrior, he walked among his men with a jaded, confident air. He had been in the Israeli Special Forces for over a decade, serving in its various units and even served a brief exchange tour with the Australian Special Air Service.  
  
The eight men of the Israeli patrol were under the call sign Red Witch and were out in the desert tonight to put a stop to the Egyptian 'missile accidents' that had been occurring over the past few months. The Egyptians were using mobile missile launchers to fire tactical cruise missiles with what they claimed were dummy warheads around the Sinai Peninsula. When one finally landed on an Israeli border outpost, Tel Aviv decided to take action. Using members of any number of Israel's Special Forces, the politicians realized they had a deadly tool at their disposal.  
  
He inspected their kit and weapons which consisted of either the CAR-15 with the M-203 grenade launcher attachment (sometimes called the 203 for short) or the FN Minimi light machinegun, both of which used the 5.56 mm round. In addition they carried water, food rations, warmer clothing for the cold desert nights and the demolition kit distributed among the eight men of the unit.  
  
"I hope you get blisters you Ukrainian bastard." Avi Makhal remarked. The hulking, muscular Arab was referring to his teammate's brand new Gucci desert boots.  
  
"Oh piss off." Martin Danilov remarked, as he hefted his 203. He had spent quite a few shekels on a pair of desert combat boots from the Brigade Quartermaster's catalog, "I hope that new rucksack of yours tears a seam."  
  
"Such foul language, I do not think Allah will bless this patrol with such ruffians in ranks." Haru Ali remarked, as he hefted his Minimi light machinegun, "And with such heavy kit we need his blessing."  
  
"Shut up." Martin joked back, glad the shy newcomer was actually speaking, "At least you're not carrying the patrol medical kit. If you guys get hurt, I'm patching you up."  
  
"Yeah, we do the fighting Herr Rommel." Ramon Hedaya remarked, indicating his friend's peaked German Army field cap.  
  
"You're in the Israeli Army and you wear a German military cap. That's funny." Gerard Prideaux remarked.  
  
"I earned that from three months at the German Alpine Warfare course you moron." Martin replied.  
  
"Three weeks of hot chocolate, a chalet and amorous German girls I bet." Avi replied, "So you polluted the Aryan race with some Slavic seed 'eh?"  
  
"It wasn't anything like that crap for brains." Martin replied, "It was three months of mountain climbing, long marches along slippery, narrow mountain trails, and cross country skiing, which is exhausting by the way."  
  
"Any idea why they give the radio man the machinegun? I can't exactly call for help when I'm providing a base of fire." Andrew Whitehurst replied.  
  
Beditzko laughed and slapped him heartily on the back, "Don't you know that it's a frontovik tradition to give the new guys the heaviest gear?"  
  
At this Martin laughed at the use of the old Red Army term for seasoned and crusty old frontline soldiers. Each of the men had nearly two hundred pounds of gear on his body. "I wonder if Danilov's lawyer uncle could shorten my term?" Whitehurst remarked.  
  
"Even if he could, I'd tell him what a wuss I have for a team mate." Martin replied.  
  
"And I'll fire back that his nephew is consorting with der Reichsfuhrer." Whitehurst replied, indicating the grayish brown field cap on Martin's head.  
  
"Let's get going fellows." Beditzko said, "As much as I love bullshitting, let's go help those Egyptians with those 'accidental' discharges."  
  
The eight men boarded their helicopter and the UH-60 Black Hawk flew off into the desert night with only the sounds of the rotors to mark its passing.  
  
JAG HQ Fall's Church, Va 02 May 2003 0800 Local Time  
  
"Attention on deck!" Tiner shouted as Admiral Chegwidden walked into the office.  
  
"As you were." AJ Chegwidden remarked. Walking beside him was a stranger, a bespectacled and distinguished looking gentleman with a receding hairline in a foreign uniform, "This is Lieutenant Colonel Jesse Danilov, Israeli Defense Force Judge Advocate General Corps. He's here through the Personnel Exchange Program and is according to his CO a capable lawyer. Let's put him through his paces with a case or two."  
  
"I can handle it sir." Danilov replied.  
  
Commander Harmon Rabb watched the Israeli officer who walked with a slight limp. Catching himself staring he pretended to turn to his partner, Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie to ask, "Mac, anything new about the Petty Officer Crassovich case?"  
  
"It's alright Commander, I noticed the stare." Jesse replied, "I have an inoperable bullet there from the Sinai in 1973."  
  
"Caught in the act, eh sailor?" Mac asked Harm with a coy grin.  
  
"In the wardroom back in Israel, every time I go into there, many of the young second lieutenants ask me what it was like to lead soldiers against the Egyptians." Jesse replied, "Lieutenant Colonel Jesse Danilov. Please call me Jesse."  
  
"Commander Harmon Rabb, just call me Harm."  
  
"Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, or Mac."  
  
Lieutenant Harriet Sims-Roberts approached them, "Sir, your office is over there."  
  
Harriet led the battle hardened Israeli colonel to his office, which had been Mic's old office when he was at JAG. She saw him grin to himself, practically ear to ear, "You're kidding me?"  
  
"Sir?" Harriet asked.  
  
"You Americans. This office is palatial! I practically have the Prime Minister's office compared to my old one in Tel Aviv." Danilov replied, "And plus I'm not wearing a flak jacket everywhere I go because of those damnable terrorists."  
  
"You're welcome sir." Harriet replied.  
  
"And not to mention when I was a twenty-year old second lieutenant my office was a fox hole at the Bar Lev Line with thousands of pissed off Egyptians trying to take my side of the Suez Canal." Danilov replied.  
  
As the day wore on, Danilov was putting some personal touches to his office. He was putting up pictures in desk blotters around there. "Your family?" Mac asked, while he was getting the place in order, she had walked in with some files for him.  
  
"Yes." Danilov replied. There was a picture of a thirty-four year old woman carrying a tiny infant with a shy yearling child clinging to her right thigh.  
  
"That's my wife, Katya, and my two daughters. Annika is the one clinging to mother's leg and Amelia is the infant." Danilov replied, "They're back on our kibbutz in Israel."  
  
There was another picture of another man, also wearing an Israeli Army uniform and standing proudly beside a younger man, in his early twenties standing beside two teenage boys and a woman in her forties. Both wore brown berets and the Israeli army uniform. "The older man is my brother, Peter. He has been fighting since I have, and is a full colonel. The other one is my nephew Martin. A noble, intelligent lad he is. Of my extended family it's him I'm most proud of."  
  
"Why?" Mac asked.  
  
"He was a student at Georgetown University here." Jesse replied, "Anyway, when the crisis started to broil up around here he packed everything away and went back to Israel to do what he calls his civic duty to his kibbutz. He wound up in the Israeli Special Forces, and assigned to my old post to boot."  
  
Sinai Desert 2 May 2003 0930 Local Time  
  
The rocky outcropping seemed the perfect hiding place for eight Israeli commandoes watching the desert road for Egyptian military traffic. It was too perfect, because just about half a mile away a massive Egyptian military convoy had camped there for the night. It was at least company strength, and Gerard had figured it to be at least battalion strength as he saw about eight trucks and an APC of Egyptian soldiers come.  
  
"Whitehurst, call the IAF, this is serious." Beditzko replied.  
  
"Yes sir." Whitehurst replied. Beditzko gave him that sideways glare that said, 'quit calling me sir, there are no sirs in the special forces though I'm an officer.'  
  
"Got it Dave." Whitehurst said.  
  
On watch Ramon Hedaya's eyes were closest to the top of the rocks. "Shit." He groaned as he saw a young Egyptian girl, with a herd of goats walking their way.  
  
"Dave, you'd better get up here now." He hissed.  
  
"Oh shit." David Beditzko groaned as the Egyptian child, who was maybe thirteen at the oldest, kept meandering closer to their hide.  
  
"What is it?" Martin said, holding the clacker, the trigger to a claymore mine.  
  
"It's a kid." David replied.  
  
"What are you waiting for Ramon; use that knife at your side." David Beditzko said, with a bad taste in his mouth.  
  
Ramon Hedaya paled, "Dave, I can't, let's just catch her, tie her up and release her when the mission's done."  
  
"Ramon. I know it's a shitty thing to do, but you have to do it." David replied.  
  
"She reminds me of my daughter." Ramon replied, from behind his Minimi, "I can't do it."  
  
The child was within striking distance and Ramon leaped from cover. However his timing was bad and he missed her by inches. Terrified the girl ran towards the Egyptian soldiers.  
  
"Damn it Ramon!" Avi shouted, "Grow some balls next time! You very likely signed out death warrants."  
  
"Shut up." Martin growled.  
  
"Alright." David said, "It's not the end of the world. Grab your gear, and we can scoot out of here before the Egyptians get anywhere near this place. Martin, stay behind and blow the claymore in the face of the first Egyptians that come anywhere near here. Avi, Ramon, Gerard, split up his rucksack and webbing."  
  
Martin crouched down and he saw a detachment of a dozen Egyptian soldiers heading toward the rocks. He waited until they were within the kill radius then he squeezed the clacker.  
  
The mine exploded, throwing shards of metal into the Egyptians, killing three and wounding six. Martin started running away from the wadi until he found the other seven members of the unit and reclaimed his gear.  
  
The planned escape and evasion entailed the eight men of Red Witch turning around and heading for a less obvious destination other than the Israeli border. That destination was an area where American troops were conducting training exercises. It was a last ditch and risky plan, for if the Americans suspected they were spies or worse, Al-Quaeda, they were done for. It was either that or be captured on their way back to Israeli by an Egyptian battalion that wasn't exactly happy about having three of their men splattered by shards of ball bearings over the desert.  
  
The snap of a bullet going past his head brought Dave out of any thoughts of walking west towards the American encampment, at least 180 miles away for the time being. The men dropped their packs as they saw an Egyptian APC and two trucks heading their way.  
  
"Get the 66s up!" Dave shouted, referring to the 66mm disposable rocket launchers that each man carried.  
  
"Back blast people, remember the back blast." Martin said in the chipper British accent of one of unit's sergeant major, a former member of No. 4 Commando, British Army, he was renowned for impersonating Sergeant Major Simmons with ease.  
  
"Jawohl Herr Rommel." Ramon replied and fired the rocket. It struck the APC, taking out one of its treads.  
  
The vehicle remained where it was, a mobility kill. Its machineguns were still deadly however and far reaching and what was at the minimum a reinforced platoon of Egyptian infantry was rapidly on their tails.  
  
"One up!" Dave shouted.  
  
At this Avi and Haru sprang forward, while the others fired a base of fire towards the advancing Egyptian soldiers. They dropped down and fired their 203 and Minimi weapons towards the Egyptians as Whitehurst and Danilov advanced, doing the same, leap frogging towards the Egyptians who were paralyzed with shock that eight men would try to rush them.  
  
An Egyptian fired his AK-47 in a long burst from the hip and Martin put him down with two rounds to the throat from his 203. David was closest to one of the trucks and before the Egyptian soldiers still in the cab could reply he emptied a couple bursts of gunfire into it.  
  
Beside him Avi threw a white phosphorous grenade into the back of the truck which must have housed fuel oil of some sort because three Egyptian soldiers jumped clear, cloaked in flames. With accurate shooting from his Minimi, Haru neutralized them.  
  
Meanwhile Ramon, Benjamin, Martin, and Gerard were taking on the second truck and the APC. Gerard threw a grenade into the cab of the truck while Benjamin fired off a burst from his Minimi into the bed, killing the occupants.  
  
The APC's back hatch opened as the Egyptian soldiers crewing it grabbed their AK-47s to try and fight off the attackers. Too late, Martin lobbed a grenade into the inside and slammed the hatch shut, feeling half a dozen panicked Egyptian soldiers slamming against it in the desperate last three seconds of their lives. The grenade exploded and Martin let go of the hatch with Ramon aiming his own Minimi. There was no threat, only the smell of burned meat, phosphorus and cordite.  
  
"Go! Clear out!" Dave shouts as they ran back for their rucksacks, knowing any minute now that the Egyptians would wonder why they were suddenly a platoon, an APC, and a truck lighter than they had been before.  
  
06 May 2003 JAG HQ  
  
Fall's Church, Va. 1030 Local Time  
  
"Colonel Mackenzie, Commander Rabb, the Admiral would like to see you in his office right now." Tiner said, poking his head into the bullpen.  
  
"We'll be right there Tiner." Harm replied.  
  
"What do think this is about? We already have the Wickwire court martial on our hands." Mac asked.  
  
"I don't know Mac. But whatever it is..." Harm replied, his right hand brushing lightly against Mac's left. It was an honest accident but it was enough to make his nerves tingle and forget what he was about to say.  
  
"Whatever what is?" Mac said, wheeling on him. God why did her eyes have to be so beautiful?  
  
"Whenever the Admiral calls us in we've either screwed up, have another trip somewhere far off and exotic or..." Harm said as he knocked.  
  
"We're about to find out." Mac replied, finishing his sentence.  
  
"Commander, Colonel. You have until 1300 to brief Commander Sturgis and Lieutenant Colonel Danilov on the Wickwire court martial." AJ Chegwidden began.  
  
"Sir, where are we going that is so important that Captain Wickwire's case needs to be handed off?" Mac asked.  
  
"I was getting to that Colonel. About three hours ago, local time, a soldier claiming to be a member of US Army Special Forces arrived, looking like he had just been spit up from the depths of hell itself at an American unit doing desert warfare exercises in the Egyptian desert near the Suez Canal." Chegwidden began, "We later ascertained that the soldier was an Israeli."  
  
"Why do they need us sir?" Harm asked.  
  
"Apparently the Egyptians aren't happy about Israeli soldiers in their territory. But they've been having accidental discharges of Scud missiles which coincidentally land at the border or just inside Israeli territory. I want you two on the next flight to Cairo and finding this Israeli soldier and getting some information out of him. Get him back to Israel as safely as possible. Dismissed."  
  
"Yes sir." Both replied with the same questions on their minds. Egypt? Israeli covert ops?  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
So which of the eight Israelis got away? What happened to the other seven? What exactly will Harm and Mac find in the Middle East? Coming next chapter. Whenever I can post that is. 


	2. The One That Got Away

The One that Got Away  
  
Disclaimer: Same as before.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Camp X-Ray Egyptian Desert 7 May 2003 1100 Local Time  
  
"Commander, Colonel." Said an American officer, "Captain Martin Guiterrez, US Army, our detainee is in that tent."  
  
Harm and Mac, both wearing BDUs, walked into the tent to see a young man wearing a brown t-shirt and desert camouflage trousers. Looking at the man you could easily have mistaken him for an American, no wonder the US troops here thought he was one at first. His fatigue jacket, German Army peaked field cap and canteen are at the base of his cot.  
  
He was a lean, compact and muscular fellow, or rather had been. Six days on the run made him appear bedraggled and exhausted, his brown eyes were sunken and his black hair disheveled. He came to attention smartly when he recognized that two officers had walked into the tent accompanied by an MP carrying a burlap sack that contained his gear.  
  
"As you were." Mac said.  
  
"Corporal Danilov, this is Commander Harmon Rabb and Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, US Navy and Marine Corps respectively." Captain Guiterrez began.  
  
Harm had seen pictures of the man in his uncle's office, he looked like he had lost weight, definitely not the compact, muscular framed man he had been six days ago. Mac opened the burlap sack removing a US issue desert camouflage smock, a set of Black Hawk webbing gear that the soldier likely ordered from a catalog, and a CAR-15/M203 combination broken down into components.  
  
"What were you doing in the Sinai corporal?" Mac asked, examining the pieces of gear with an expert eye. Already she deduced that the soldier was too heavily armed to be part of a reconnaissance operation. In the webbing she found three M-16 magazines, still fully loaded, one phosphorous grenade, a knife and what looked like a roll of detonation cord. There was also a standard issue medical pack that was depleted of supplies and contained empty magazines, pieces of an MRE, and a 203 grenade with a dented primer. There was also what appeared to be two syrettes of morphine around his neck with his dog tags.  
  
"Sergeant?" Mac said to the MP, "Might I ask why there is improperly stored live ordinance in this medical pack?"  
  
"We didn't find it ma'am. We assumed it was standard US issue and didn't bother to check." The sergeant replied.  
  
"Well next time, be more careful." Mac said, handing the sergeant the dud M203 grenade with Israeli markings on it. The sergeant paled and headed off to the ordinance tent as fast as he could run.  
  
"Field medic?" Harm asked.  
  
"Yes sir. And as to my mission in the Sinai, I am not permitted by Israeli law to release details without authorization, ma'am." Martin replied.  
  
Harm handed him a sealed envelop with the Israeli state seal. The soldier opened it and said, "I'll have to be in a secure area before I can release the information in question sir."  
  
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 1900 Local Time  
  
After being scrutinized by checkpoint after checkpoint to get to the Moussad building, Harm and Mac climbed out of the Israeli jeep. An Israeli soldier walked up to the two Americans clad in civilian clothing and handed them each a flak jacket. He had been briefed to ask no questions and lead them toward a compound protected by a chain link fence twelve feet high and topped with coils of razor and concertina wire. After going through yet another half dozen check points with both uniformed and plain clothed Israeli guards frisking them they reached Martin.  
  
He was sitting in a room that was bare save for the table, two chairs and an assortment of writing utensils and paper. Again the soldier showed his discipline by coming to attention when the two officers entered.  
  
He now wore the same standard issue olive drab fatigues worn by all soldiers of the Israeli Army. The white flag with the two blue stripes and blue Star of David was worn on his shoulder as well. His brown beret that showed him to be a former member of the Sarayet Golany (Reconnaissance element for the Israeli Golany infantry brigade) was on the table.  
  
"Corporal, would you mind telling us what exactly your mission was in the Sinai." Harm began.  
  
"Yes sir." Martin replied, "It started two weeks ago when two soldiers were killed by what the Egyptians claimed was misfired tactical cruise missile when it landed on their outpost."  
  
"How do you know it wasn't an accident?" Mac interjected.  
  
"Ma'am, because they claimed about half a dozen supposed, 'accidental launches' and 'tests gone wrong' to us for weeks." Martin replied.  
  
"When did you receive orders to slip into Egypt?" Mac replied.  
  
"Almost immediately after," Martin replied, "Tacit encrypted messages were sent to our special forces units on the Egyptian frontier. Our air force was on standby with ordinance loaded and pilots ready to scramble. We had three major patrols ready to slip behind Egyptian lines to take out the mobile launchers. Ours was first to go in and ascertain the location of the missiles."  
  
Israeli Air Field 10 Miles From the Egyptian Border 27 April 2003 1000 Local Time  
  
"Two Israeli soldiers died yesterday when the Egyptian Cobra mobile tactical cruise missile system test being conducted in the Sinai Desert went wrong." Stuart Dunston's voice sounded on the tiny television in the hangar that housed several Israeli Special Forces detachments.  
  
"That's bullshit if I ever heard it." Avi remarked, leaning on the spindly framed folding chair he sprawled into.  
  
"The Egyptians claim that the Cobra Tactical Cruise Missile system is going through guidance system failures and the missiles consistently overshoot their intended targets." Dunston continued, as footage of a group of prefab buildings in the Sinai that was the missile's intended target appeared on screen with the missile flying far and away and landing on an Israeli outpost about six miles downrange.  
  
"They always claim that they're tests gone wrong." Benjamin remarked, sitting atop his cot.  
  
"And where, coincidentally do they land, close to our border, or sometimes inside it." Whitehurst replied.  
  
"I'd say it's definite that the Egyptians are flexing their muscles again." Martin replied, "They still are pretty pissed about Yom Kippur and the Six Day War."  
  
"I'd say you're right." David Beditzko replied as he walked into the hangar with a sealed manila envelope under one arm. He made a gesture to circle up his team and said, "We're going in boys."  
  
"It's about time." Avi remarked.  
  
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 7 May 2003 1920 Local Time  
  
"What did you do in the mean time?" Harm replied.  
  
"The usual routine of planning, scrounging kits we wanted or needed from other teams. Because we had so many other teams around the border, and also the current problems here in Gaza and the West Bank there were shortages of supplies. We didn't even have any 203 grenades for the first couple days and we each had a couple magazines of 5.56 mm ammunition sir." Martin replied.  
  
"What was your plan for your incursion?" Mac began.  
  
"We started our planning after we made sure we got our hands on some ammunition and zeroed our weapons ma'am." Martin replied.  
  
Israeli Air Field 10 Miles From the Egyptian Border 27 April 2003 1100 Local Time  
  
Whitehurst, Hedaya, Ari, and Ali were firing bursts from the Minimi light machineguns on the impromptu firing range, making corrections to the sights to suit each individual carrying the weapon in question.  
  
Meanwhile, Beditzko, Danilov, Makhal, and Prideaux fired their 203s, first zeroing the assault rifle components and then firing the 40mm 203 grenades downrange to test for accuracy of the azimuth sights that they had gotten their hands on.  
  
"How do you plan to insert, vehicles?" Makhal asked.  
  
"No, it'll be too hard to conceal them and we'd have to station two guys around them at all times. We're short handed enough as is, operations in Gaza already took four of our guys to help with the situation around here." Beditzko replied, "We'll go in by helicopter and travel on foot."  
  
"How are we for ammo?" Makhal asked.  
  
"Working on it. I've already got Martin and Gerard negotiating with Blue Team for some ammunition. I've already got enough 203 grenades to give each man in the patrol twelve grenades." Beditzko replied.  
  
"I also have about 200 rounds of 5.56 for a Minimi, I can give fifty extra rounds to each machine gunner." Makhal replied.  
  
"There's the matter of cover stories if the Egyptians capture us." Beditzko added, "I know we use American issue desert camouflage so we can claim we're an American trained unit. They already would figure out were Israelis so that's gonna be inevitable."  
  
"Yeah, I can just picture dying in a pool of my own piss...." Avi growled cynically, "That last round in my weapon is for me if it comes down to that."  
  
"If need be I'll do us all in." Martin replied, lugging a box of British made W12 White Phosphorous incendiary grenades.  
  
"Where in Gideon's name did you get those?" Beditzko asked.  
  
"I managed to do a little fast talking and gave up a little bit of my medical kit stockpile to the supply sergeant and he said he had something we could definitely use." Martin replied.  
  
"That means we each get six of these babies, plus six regular grenades, a dozen 203 bombs and as for ammo the riflemen I can give them ten magazines of 30 rounds. The machine gunners each get a total of 690 rounds apiece." David replied, "I just saw Benjamin and Gerard carrying cases of 5.56, we're set to go."  
  
"Now about our cover story, we're a medical rescue unit. If we're asked why we have American made fatigues, we'll say we were on exercise with them and trying out their desert camouflage pattern." Beditzko replied.  
  
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 7 May 2003 1950 Local Time  
  
"So let me get this straight, if you were captured you were going to either shoot yourselves or give a cover story that you were an Israeli air rescue unit?" Mac asked, "And the fact that you weren't dressed like ordinary Israeli soldiers meant that they would have figured out you were some sort of Special Forces team from the outset."  
  
"Yes ma'am." Martin replied, "The Egyptians aren't too fond of Israelis these days. And it's mutual."  
  
Suddenly there was a commotion just outside the door as a group of Israelis ran toward a small TV that was in the living room of the Moussad safe house. The three occupants of the interrogation room watched the latest broadcast of ZNN.  
  
"Tensions have risen dramatically in the Sinai Desert since Egyptian authorities mention that fifty-eight Egyptian soldiers were killed by an Israeli Special Forces unit that crept into their territory." Stuart Dunston began, the camera showing pictures of the APC and trucks and Egyptian medics carrying off the bodies of their dead wrapped in blankets. About half a dozen wailing Egyptian women in black abayas shouted their grief and epithets towards Israel.  
  
"Egypt accuses Israel of violating a 1973 truce with this raid." Dunston began, as off camera a messenger handed him a message, "All foreign nationals are encouraged to leave Egypt immediately. We've just received word that an Israeli soldier was picked up by an American unit in the Sinai and transported back to Israel."  
  
"Damn him." Mac growled under her breath. Harm stirred uncomfortably at the memories of Stuart Dunston, who somehow had gotten his hands on sensitive information, "Doesn't he know he's throwing gasoline on a fire."  
  
Harm knew whenever Mac got that way, it was usually best to get out of her way, "Hey Ninja Girl, I'm gonna go give Jesse a call, let him know his nephew's still alive and safe in Israeli territory."  
  
Not really paying attention, Mac waved him off and Harm managed to get one of the Israeli intelligence personnel to let him use the phone.  
  
"Corporal, where's the rest of your patrol?" Mac asked.  
  
"We were separated on the night of May 2nd in a night sand storm. After it died down, I found myself alone with Avi and Benjamin. I don't know where the rest of the unit went." Martin said, guilt creasing his features. He indicated a mountain range on a map he took from his pocket, "At this mountain range we decided to go take cover in, because there were two experienced mountaineers in our party, myself and Avi. Benjamin wasn't experienced at all in mountaineering..."  
  
Sinai Desert 2 May 2003 0030 Local Time  
  
The men of the Red Witch patrol had been on the run for quite some time now. Over twelve hours had passed since contact was made with the Egyptian reinforced platoon. They had since abandoned their packs using only what they had in their belt kits. The sandstorm whipped up through the cold desert night with forceful surprise as Whitehurst tried to use the radio again to contact an Israeli F-15 that was flying a few miles away.  
  
Benjamin suddenly keeled over with exhaustion. "Medic!" David shouted.  
  
Martin sprang over, carrying his med kit and 203. The kid lay on his back, his skin cold and clammy and tongue thick. "He's badly dehydrated." Martin said, and mixing an electrolyte powder with the contents of one of his canteens he put the mix into Haru's mouth. The kid seemed to be feeling stronger.  
  
"Easy, easy, you just gave yourself heat exhaustion." Martin said.  
  
"I forgot all about those stupid thermals." Benjamin said, "I'd worn them on some night ops, one of the boys from Blue Team traded them to me for my extra azimuth sight. They kept me warm on the ops, I usually don't wear them for deep reconnaissance."  
  
"Keep forcing fluids on him. He's bound to be badly out of it." Martin replied.  
  
"Take point Martin, Benjamin stay behind him, Avi you walk behind Benjamin. The rest of you fall in behind me." David replied. As they walked not more than three miles the sand storm whipped down upon them with sudden and violent intensity.  
  
"David! Ramon!" came a shout through the sandstorm cloud.  
  
Martin wrapped a shamag, a traditional Arab head covering, around his face to protect it from the sand that ground against every inch of exposed skin. "It's Martin! Benjamin, get over here!"  
  
"See anyone else?" Benjamin asked as the two men took cover in the wadi.  
  
Martin replied by aiming his 203 over the boy's shoulder. "It's Avi you asshole! You nearly shot me!"  
  
"It's a good thing I didn't because you'd be dead right now." Martin replied.  
  
"Have you seen Dave and the others?" Avi asked.  
  
"No I haven't." Martin replied, "I thought you had."  
  
"What do we do now?" Benjamin asked.  
  
"Follow the evasion plan and head towards that American unit." Martin replied, pulling his map, "If we keep on tabbing all night and take cover during the day, we can get there in about two days at the most."  
  
"There's one problem with your route Mr. Columbus, Benjamin isn't as skilled a mountaineer as you or I. And some of those trails are pretty treacherous. Let's use that pass to the south." Avi said, referring to some easier trails.  
  
"That's the first place the Egyptians will look. Listen, we'll skirt through the mountains and deter the Egyptians a little and then we'll cut into the pass after we've snuck around their checkpoint." Martin replied.  
  
"Got it." Avi replied, "I'll go behind the kid, give him a little push if need be."  
  
"Quit saying that." Benjamin argued, "I'm nineteen years old, but that doesn't mean I'm incapable of enduring a little hardship."  
  
"It's gonna get harder from here. Much harder." Martin replied, "Head west young man."  
  
"That's cornier than Haru's impression of Humphrey Bogart." Benjamin remarked.  
  
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 7 May 2003 1950 Local Time  
  
"So you went into the mountains with an inexperienced climber carrying a light machinegun, ammo, and heavy kit?" Mac asked.  
  
"Yes ma'am. We didn't have much of a choice. The Egyptians were bound to pick up our trail by dawn at the latest if they hadn't already." Martin replied.  
  
Harm walked back over to the pair and joined in the conversation. As he did, Mac briefly got a whiff of his cologne and a mix of his sweat. "Mac," Harm said, "Are you alright?"  
  
"Huh?" Mac said, "As I was about to say, the patrol got separated by a sandstorm their first night in the Sinai. And our friend and two of his fellow soldiers were the only ones to have found one another in the night."  
  
Harm managed to catch himself staring at Mac long enough to say, "If he's here, where are the others?"  
  
"It snowed in the mountains that night. We were tired enough that we had forgotten a basic tenet of mountaineering, stay together. We didn't tie in to each other, but as long as we stayed in a cave I discovered we could have avoided the snowfall. Unfortunately some Egyptian patrol had a similar idea." Martin replied, "After we exchanged shots and I donated them one of my white phosphorus grenades we cleared out of there like bats out of Hell."  
  
Sinai Desert 3 May 2003 0130 Local Time  
  
"Go! Go! Go!" Martin shouted as he fired a couple bursts at a group of Egyptian soldiers they had surprised inside a cave they tried to take cover in.  
  
"Grenade!" Benjamin shouted, seeing a soup can shaped Soviet made ordinance fly their way. He kicked it back toward the Egyptians with Martin throwing a phosphorus grenade into their midst.  
  
A solitary Egyptian raised his AK only to be shot three times by Avi's 203. Benjamin fired bursts of three to five rounds from his SAW to keep the Egyptians off their backs. The ones that weren't killed by the double grenade blast were most certainly killed by the accurate shooting of three surprised Israeli soldiers that through superior training recovered the initiative faster.  
  
"Just what we needed. Snow!" Martin remarked, his teeth chattering. He wished to God that he hadn't left most of his rations in his now abandoned rucksack. Instead he put mostly water, ammunition and a couple bags of crackers and sticks of beef jerky and a couple granola bars in his webbing and on his person.  
  
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 7 May 2003 2030 Local Time  
  
"Mac! Watch out!" Harm shouted as a cylinder flew into the glass window.  
  
"Harm, what are you...." Mac began just as Harm tackled her around the waist and simultaneously shoved Martin behind a couch.  
  
The grenade exploded with a loud concussive bang. Thankfully no one was injured, but judging from the shooting just outside, the situation was clearly not good.  
  
"Don't you think you should take me to dinner first?" Mac said, with a wry grin. The pair were lying on the concrete floor in each others arms for a bit too long after the blast.  
  
Harm untangled himself from Mac, with a slightly flushed complexion as he peered out of the broken window. The Israeli guards had shot two Palestinian youths. One of them fished an explosive filled vest out of one of the bodies and another grenade from the second corpse. Whatever happened here was about to get uglier, if that violence was any indication.  
  
JAG HQ Fall's Church, Va. 1130 Local Time 7 May 2003  
  
"At least half a dozen suicide attacks have been either stopped or have occurred in the past three hours in the Gaza Strip and here in Cairo protestors and rioters have taken to the streets, clamoring for war against Israel." The ZNN broadcast began.  
  
The Egyptians on screen were chanting "Down with the Israeli devils!" as they burned several effigies of Israeli soldiers. Rocks were thrown at the American Embassy as the Marines guarding it donned riot gear and fired tear gas into the mob. "They would have sent the special forces." Danilov said, "Especially the Mobile Command Teams, which my nephew belongs."  
  
"Petty Officer Tiner. Yes sir, he's right here. Colonel Danilov?"  
  
"Yes Mr. Tiner." Danilov replied, and he felt an acid dread. Just because he was proud of his nephew, it didn't mean he approved the boy, young man, he said correcting himself, choice of career.  
  
He allowed himself a breath of relief that Martin was alive and well. But he couldn't help but share the worries of his fellow JAG personnel because two of their best officers, and co-workers and to more than a few of the people in the bullpen, friends, were in the thick of things. Even in the barely forty-eight hours he had known Harm and Mac he knew that there was chemistry between the two that just was dying to be combusted. Like his nephew, he was a romantic through and through and he could see that Harm and Mac were destined soul mates. From Lieutenant Sims-Roberts and Commander Sturgis he was able to piece together much of the past few years they had with one another. He knew that if either of the two was killed, the other would be inconsolable and would be forever incomplete. And knowing full well the situation in Israel the likelihood of the above scenario rose above probable.  
  
He just hoped that it would not come to pass.  
  
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 7 May 2003 2300 Local Time  
  
"Sir, ma'am, please forgive the accommodations if they are a little Spartan as we are pressed for space." The Israeli second lieutenant said as he opened the door to a spare bedroom that contained largely a lot of file cabinets shoved to one side and a couple of cots with blankets and pillows.  
  
"We've had worse." Harm replied.  
  
"Yes sir. I'll be down the hall if you need me." The lieutenant replied.  
  
"Thank you lieutenant." Harm replied, "That will be all."  
  
"Where would you rank this Mac?" Harm said, "In the categories of places where we've slept with each other."  
  
Mac felt her cheeks flush as she saw Harm subtly wince. That didn't quite come out the way he wanted to say it. "I don't know Harm, I don't think we'd ever slept together."  
  
"Mac, I was talking about sleeping with you in such close quarters." Harm replied, in protest, holding his hands up as the most beautiful sight in the Marine Corps advanced semi-menacingly on him.  
  
"In terms of the worst places to sleep, I'd classify this with the USS Watertown or Afghanistan." Mac replied.  
  
"That bad?" Harm replied, "My aren't we picky. Our Israeli friend slept in worse than this."  
  
"Yes Harm, I'm aware of that. Now could you at least give me a minute of privacy?" Mac replied, as she pulled a gray USMC t-shirt and green sweat pants from her bag.  
  
Harm turned around and after Mac's allotted time limit her turned around just as had pulled her t-shirt on. Even dressed as she was, Mac was definitely a beautiful woman. Harm always thought that of her.  
  
"Now to be fair, Mac, could you grant me a minute of privacy." Harm replied.  
  
Mac obligingly turned around and Harm briefly admired how her t-shirt clung to her frame in a few places. He slipped on a pair of his Naval Academy shorts and a generic gray t-shirt.  
  
Mac turned around just in time to see Harm fumbling with the t-shirt that was a little tight for him. She could see his well chiseled abdomen and muscular arms and for a moment wondered what it would feel like to have those arms wrapped around her, like the time in Afghanistan when they shared body heat....  
  
Not surprisingly both of them thought the same thing. 'I must be going crazy.'  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Up next, more of Martin's story, and the ante rises as Harm and Mac find themselves embroiled in a volatile Middle Eastern standoff in the midst of their investigation. Will one of them lose the other? 


	3. Down to Two

Down to Two  
  
Disclaimer: Same as before.  
  
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 0800 Local Time  
  
"Mac by nature is an early riser." Harm groaned to himself as he pushed himself off his cot. He was amazed that she even let him sleep in a couple hours. Jet lag will do that to you.  
  
He spied a piece of paper next to his cot. "Harm, meet me in the interrogation room. Mac. P.S. You owe me."  
  
Typical Sarah Mackenzie, concise and to the point, Harmon Rabb mused as he threw on his slacks and buttoned up a clean shirt. He tucked the shirt tail in and asked one of the Israeli plain clothes guards if Mac was still in the interrogation room. A curt nod was all he got, but it was sufficient for his purposes.  
  
Harm opened the door to find Mac speaking with their witness. She was so involved with getting more details from the man that she didn't even know the door had been opened. He figured he'd just watch her for a few seconds and drink in the details. Mac wore a loose fitting white blouse that hugged the curves of her frame in the right places, as well as a pair of black denims and running shoes.  
  
"I could get used to this." Harm mused to himself, for this assignment, civilian clothing was the uniform of the day for obvious reasons. Americans weren't very popular in the region at the moment, especially military Americans. He was so caught up on the train of thought that he didn't see Mac had swiveled the chair around and was now facing him, arms folded under her breasts with her trademark wry grin creasing her face.  
  
"Don't get too comfortable flyboy." Mac replied, teasingly, "If I didn't know better, I'd swear you'd want to work for Webb just to walk around in civvies all day. Besides, you honestly think you can sneak up on a Marine?"  
  
"You honestly looked like I had snuck up on you at the time." Harm pointed out.  
  
"Deception is a crucial element of warfare squid." Mac teased. The Israeli soldier that was their witness sat relaxed in his chair, detachedly observing the banter between the two partners. It was easy to see the Danilov family resemblance in his nephew.  
  
"So what happened after you left the cave?" Harm asked, forcing himself back to work.  
  
"We fled over the most inhospitable terrain we could find to discourage pursuit. None of us was in the best state of mind at the time." Martin replied, "We were all tired, hungry, running on empty sir. And that's when the mother of all snowstorms hit us."  
  
Sinai Desert 3 May 2003 0234 Local Time  
  
"C'mon Avi, we have to stay to the high ground for a while longer." Martin cajoled. Of all people to be so utterly beaten down by the climbs in the mountains the last person he expected to be beaten was Avi.  
  
The man was starting to wander off course every three seconds. Of course, the trio was doing so as well because exhaustion was starting to take its toll on them. "I can't go on much longer." Avi groaned.  
  
"Damn it Avi. We have to keep going. Three more miles, and then we'll hide out in that gully just ahead of us." Martin replied.  
  
"Heads up!" Benjamin shouted as he fired his Minimi downrange at a couple Egyptian trackers that were about to fire on the three fleeing Israeli soldiers.  
  
It was as if the very natural segment of the Egyptian desert was offended by three Israeli soldiers traipsing her land and killing her native sons. A thick blanket of snow descended, blindingly fast, and caused visibility to drop to a point where the men could barely see past their faces.  
  
The snow passed after about an hour and Martin turned around to find Benjamin, shivering but still alive, behind him. "Benjamin, where's Avi?"  
  
"I don't know." Benjamin snapped, "He was with us when the storm hit."  
  
"Avi!" Martin shouted, screw being tactical, if Avi was anywhere within hearing distance he'd know to respond.  
  
"Avi!" Benjamin joined.  
  
After about half an hour of fruitless searching Martin tabbed away from the mountain, "Martin, what about Avi?"  
  
"What about Avi? He's either dead or still alive. And if the latter is true, he can take care of himself." Martin replied firmly.  
  
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 0815 Local Time  
  
"So what happened to Avi?" Mac asked.  
  
"Ma'am, we knew he could handle himself in the mountains." Martin replied, "Avi once got lost in the mountains on a training exercise for three days and when we found him he was sitting atop a boulder brewing Arab coffee and asked the rescue team, 'Where the hell were you guys? I was getting lonely up here.' So we figured he could handle himself. Anyway it was either stay and look for Avi and wind up captured or killed while doing so or run and bring back an Israeli strike force to go rescue the rest of the patrol."  
  
"You left a team mate in the mountains all by himself?" Mac said, astounded, "You said he was in bad shape. How did you know that he would be alright?"  
  
Harm whispered, "Mac, don't you think that he's been through enough? You're running the kid too hard."  
  
"Sir, with all due respect, I fucked up." Martin replied, the remembering basic etiquette he replied, "My apologies, I made a mistake, a bad call. I should have tied an arm length piece of cord around each of our waists to make sure we didn't get separated, but I wasn't thinking properly either. The cold was getting to me too."  
  
McMurphy's 7 May 2003 1830 Local Time  
  
Sturgis, Bud, Harriet, and Danilov were all clustered around a table at a favorite JAG watering hole. The three more experienced JAG officers were explaining the ropes of the place to the newcomers.  
  
"So let me get this straight," Danilov asked, "Harm and Mac have faced terrorist threats, psychotic stalkers, and any number of things that would have even the most seasoned veteran scared stiff and their afraid of their feelings for each other?"  
  
"You hit the nail on the head sir." Harriet said.  
  
"It's Jesse, not sir when we're not at work." Jesse replied, "Harm told me about that tradition he has with letting you call him by his first name."  
  
"Right, sorry sir, I mean Jesse." Harriet replied, "Anyway, they've grown so close over the years its heartbreaking to see the fact that they can't express their feelings for each other."  
  
"Reminds me of my nephew in some ways." Jesse replied, as he sipped his Heineken, "A brave fighter on one side and a bruised romantic on the other."  
  
"What happened to him?" Harriet asked.  
  
"There were a lot of things. First and foremost was his guilt that his fellow Israelis were dying during the wave of suicide attacks and gunfights." Jesse replied, "And like me, he is probably a very romantic individual, a part of his personality he hides under a gruff exterior."  
  
"What happened?" Sturgis asked.  
  
"Five years ago he was in the United States as an exchange student at the United States Coast Guard Academy in New London, Connecticut." Jesse began, "Then he was to be commissioned as a 2nd Lieutenant in the Israeli Defense Force."  
  
Sturgis said, "What happened to him?"  
  
Danilov withdrew a folded and yellowed sheet that contained a headline. "Coast Guard Cadet Murdered in the Middle East."  
  
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 0825 Local Time  
  
"You were able to pass for an American, not just by your complexion, but you seem to understand our customs. Did you emigrate from the US?" Harm asked.  
  
"No sir." Martin replied, "I was an exchange cadet at your US Coast Guard Academy."  
  
"Did you lose your commission?" Harm asked.  
  
"Sir, with all due respect I'd rather not comment." Martin replied, with forceful venom that hid a deep hurt, "Beyond the fact that I joined up to cleanse Zion of the vermin that infest her."  
  
"You quit to rejoin your countrymen in their time of strife?" Harm said.  
  
"Yes sir. I could not in good conscience enjoy a good life for four years while my fellow Israelis were dying and fighting in the streets of Gaza and the West Bank." Martin replied, "I have no regrets."  
  
Martin gulped audibly, fingering a small wallet sized photograph that was well worn and never left his side for a moment. On missions he always taped it to the side of his weapon. He fingered the picture of a friend from those days. She was a kind natured, lively brunette that caught his eye from the moment they met. She was one of his closest friends, and by the start of their sophomore year he had already developed feelings for her. She was on a long range endurance cutter, the USCGS Bloodhound that was on port visit in Haifa, Israel. She and several of her friends had gone into Jerusalem to tour the ruins when she had been reported as missing when they got back to the Bloodhound. Three days later, her body had been found.  
  
The look on the Israeli soldier's face was one that told of a hurt that had yet to heal. Something told Harm that the man's war was very personal, more so than he let on. "It was raining that night sir." Martin began, somberly as he dredged up memories.  
  
"I was nineteen years old that day," Martin added, "I remember Diane telling me about how she was excited to see Israel for the first time. Then I heard about a missing cadet who had gotten separated from her tour group in Jerusalem. I pressed friends of mine on the Bloodhound for information but it wasn't forthcoming. Then she was found dead three days later."  
  
Harm felt a chill run down his spine, it almost reminded him of his old Academy sweetheart Diane, and his own romantic tragedy. However, Martin had solid enemies to attack and leaving to join the Israeli Army was what helped him. Harm didn't find closure till almost a year after Diane had died.  
  
"Some lonely nights when I walk the perimeter of our camp I see her in my mind's eye. I see her blushing, happy face before she boarded the Bloodhound to Haifa. She always had an unfathomable curiosity about other places around the world. I still see how the wind teased her short chestnut hair, the gleam of light on her rich brown eyes. Then I remember what the scum took away from me and I give them their dues." Martin replied.  
  
How many people had he already killed? Well there were six that he knew of for certain. All had been close enough to breathe their last breaths into his face after he had exacted a terrible vengeance with his fighting knife. Men he killed in the heat of battle never counted, because soldiers are expected to kill in combat. He was referring to black ops in the Gaza Strip against Palestinian terrorists, like those that took Diane away from him. He remembered lurking in the shadows like some ghastly apparition and springing like a panther, snatching his target, jerking back his or her head and slitting the throat. The feeling of warm blood flowing onto his hands was one he wouldn't soon forget.  
  
Gaza Strip September 18, 2002 0200 Local Time  
  
The masked gunman walked openly through the shadows. This person was known for perpetrating at least a dozen shootings throughout the Gaza and had recently been involved in a daycare center shooting not more than one night ago. Little did the gunman know that time his time was short.  
  
Martin hid deep in the shadows. He already knew that his unit was about to hit the terrorist safe house which would prove to be a nasty strong point that Palestinians could use to fight the Israelis that would exact their right of vengeance upon they who slaughter innocents.  
  
Innocents like Diane. Someone he never got to say goodbye to, much less tell how he truly felt towards her. Remembering having to identify her remains and attending her funeral was enough for him. He slung his rifle, he wasn't gonna need it for this one. He drew instead a custom made fighting knife from his hip. He stealthily snuck behind the masked gunman and then ran noiselessly behind him and pulled back his head.  
  
During the swift and violent struggle the gunman was found to be a woman. It didn't matter to Martin, as he slit her throat with a swift and practiced ease. He knew that these sort of people, regardless of age, gender, or social status did the same to innocent people.  
  
"Red One, target neutralized."  
  
"Red Two, target neutralized." Came the next voice.  
  
"Three, target neutralized."  
  
All around the safe house, Palestinian guerillas were dying because Israeli commandos snuck in and killed them silently and without remorse. It was as if the Angel of Death had passed into Palestinian territory. When the Israeli attack came at dawn that morning, it met light resistance, primarily because the Palestinian terrorists were either already dead or in hiding from Israeli soldiers that could strike silently out of nowhere. And Martin Danilov would remember clearly that he had killed four men and two women in this manner, striking from the shadows like a predator or an avenging angel depending on which side you spoke to.  
  
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 0910 Local Time  
  
"It's as if something inside me already died." Martin said. He absently stared out a window, watching a detail of half a dozen Israeli soldiers, they had to be nineteen at the oldest.  
  
"Look at these young tigers. Convinced of their own indestructibility." Martin replied, "Fighting alongside them makes you feel old, even if you're only one year senior to them."  
  
Martin was in his mid-twenties, but his face carried the emotional scars of five years of bitter fighting for personal reasons, of a love unexpressed and of grief that had not diminished in those years. "My apologies for the tangent sir, I should be concentrating on the mission."  
  
Sinai Desert 3 May 2003 0500 Local Time  
  
"Martin, we've got to find Avi." Benjamin said.  
  
"Benjamin, it's not that simple." Martin replied, "First we've got a number of pissed of Egyptians on our sixes. Second we have to get to the Americans, give them our cover story and get back to Israel to tell them what has happened to the rest of us. I don't even know if David and the others are still alive."  
  
Martin tied a length of cord to Benjamin's webbing, "This is so we don't get separated."  
  
"Incoming!" Benjamin shouted. Both men dived for cover as an Egyptian soldier fired an RPG downrange at them. Martin drew a bead and squeezed off two rounds that brought the man down, clawing at his throat.  
  
They had been running and fighting continuously for hours now. Avi was gone, whether alive or dead, they didn't know. "Just our luck Avi's the one that makes it." Benjamin said, as he lugged his Minimi.  
  
"I hope he does. If anyone has a chance of surviving in the mountains I bet Avi would any day of the week. He was raised in the Judean hills as a boy." Martin replied. He knew Avi was a skilled mountaineer, even a qualified alpine guide, but he remembered on the German Alpinejaeger course he had taken the story of a German Army Lieutenant Colonel who was more qualified than either Avi or Martin who had died when he got lost in the Alps.  
  
If the cold doesn't get him, starvation or thirst will, and if those don't the Egyptians will get him. Martin thought, but he didn't want to tell Benjamin, the idealistic kid from Tel Aviv about how the mountains, regardless of their names, never returned the unfortunate men that were lost in them.  
  
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 0855 Local Time  
  
"Mac, I'm going to go get some coffee, do you want some?" Harm asked.  
  
"Sure." Mac said, inwardly she grimaced, as she figured out the Israelis could make damn fine infantry units but their coffee left much to be desired. It was as strong as battery acid and about as appealing to drink.  
  
Harm hadn't been gone for more than five minutes when Mac heard a massive explosion outside the gate, the tremor shaking the building front. "HARM!" Mac shouted, sprinting through the door and around several running and very pissed off Israeli soldiers and Moussad personnel.  
  
The front of the building had taken the brunt of the blast. Apparently a car had driven through the chain link fence and crashed against the side before the driver blew it up. "Harm?" Mac said, peering into the small kitchen, "HARM!"  
  
She was at his side instantly as Harm stood up shakily, "Are you alright?"  
  
"Mac, I'm alright. I saw that car go through the fence." Harm replied, then smiled one of his killer flyboy grins that still shone through despite his being covered with powdered concrete and dust. Mac picked a splinter of wood from his hair as she helped him rise.  
  
"We'd best get you checked out flyboy." Mac replied, leading him towards the tiny and well stocked infirmary.  
  
"Lay him down on the couch." Danilov said, adding a belated, "Ma'am."  
  
Mac gently laid Harm down on the couch, just then remembering their Israeli witness was a certified field medic. "How many fingers am I holding up sir?"  
  
"Two." Harm said, when Martin held two up.  
  
Good, follow the finger." Martin said, he also shined a penlight into his eye.  
  
"Other than a few abrasions and scrapes, one or two minor cuts, I'd say the commander will be fine momentarily but I recommend having the surgeon look him over." Martin replied, "That I got courtesy of the US Army 18-D Special Forces Medical Sergeant course after I got into the Sarayet Golany."  
  
"Group! Atten-hut!" called an Israeli NCO.  
  
"Report?" a grim looking Israeli officer, a short, squat man with a broad, muscular upper body. Mac and Harm both felt something familiar about this man.  
  
"Sir, it was a suicide attack, the attackers were in an unmarked civilian vehicle filled with explosives." Martin replied.  
  
"Casualties?" the officer asked.  
  
"So far two confirmed dead, five wounded sir." Another Israeli, this one in civilian garb and a woman, replied.  
  
Martin seemed visibly stiffened in the presence of the Israeli colonel. After the man had gone the Israeli woman answered, "Martin's father."  
  
"His father?" Mac said, incredulously. Now she remembered that she'd seen him in the picture in Lt. Colonel Danilov's office, "How do you know our client?"  
  
"My apologies ma'am, Ilsa Romanov, Moussad. I know the colonel because I was engaged to marry Martin after he would have graduated the academy."  
  
Martin shot her a look, but Ilsa seemed unflappable and unaffected, "I couldn't agree with the colonel's matchmaking. I know Martin is a good soldier and would have agreed with his father's orders without his heart being in it. I couldn't give myself to a man who's heart belonged to someone an ocean away."  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Sorry this is all I can post, I've got a history test tomorrow. I'll explain the latest turns in the next chapter and the fate of the Red Witch patrol will be discovered shortly. 


	4. Down to One

Down to One  
  
Disclaimer: Same as before. If I go off on tangents it's to explain Martin's character. Whoever can guess the significance of Lili Marlene, you're a smart guy.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 0915 Local Time  
  
As a cleanup crew, carrying M-16s at their sides and escorted by a squad of Israeli combat troops, started their work a jeep pulled up carrying four more Israeli soldiers and one K-9. They all wore olive drab fatigues, like Martin and the only sign they were Special Forces was the fact that they wore sand brown berets bearing the winged dagger insignia of the Mobile Command Teams, the most elusive and lethal of Israeli Special Forces.  
  
They walked up to the group clustered near the hole in the building and approached Martin who turned around and faced his four old comrades. Mac and Harm looked at them, they were young men, barely out of their teens, eyes and faces already hardened by months of feral war and demanding training.  
  
"Did anyone else make it out?" Martin asked.  
  
"We hoped you'd know." Another Israeli replied. He was a wiry, olive skinned fellow with black hair growing into a recently shaven skull. Beside him was a German Shepherd, his K-9 partner of all the three years he'd been in service.  
  
Rahim Al-Batani was another Arab-Israeli, the son of an Algerian expatriate and an Israeli female police officer, he was a big hearted fellow who would gladly give his life for his team mates. He was from the Attack Palga, or the attack dog unit of the Israeli Special Forces. His former unit, Unit 7142, had been deployed on numerous search and destroy operations against terrorists in Gaza, Lebanon, and other areas of Israel.  
  
"Amit, Jacob, and Mgambe have been monitoring the radio for days. The only transmission we heard was from an F-15 fighter that said it heard a garbled transmission from an Israeli patrol. It lost contact somewhere in the Sinai desert."  
  
Because the conversation took place in Hebrew, neither Harm or Mac understood it. "What are they saying Ilsa?" Harm asked.  
  
"They're talking about Martin's patrol. If anyone else made it out of the Sinai they'd want to know first because it's a tradition in their unit. If any one of them died in combat, the unit always wants to inform the family first before the support services do." Ilsa replied.  
  
"How do you know that?" Mac asked.  
  
"Because, ma'am, they told me my father died in Lebanon when I was six years old. He was a former member of their unit." Ilsa replied.  
  
Mgambe, an Ethiopian born Christian whose parents had come to Israel because his father had found a job there when he was eight, ran for them, "They've found one of the patrol!" he shouted, practically out of breath, "The Egyptians returned him."  
  
"They're bringing him over!" Jacob added.  
  
About ten minutes later, an Israeli jeep pulled up to the compound. After it was let in, Mac and Harm went to interview the witness.  
  
"Commander Harmon Rabb, US Navy JAG Corps," Rabb said to the Israeli driver, "Can we see the witness."  
  
The Israeli soldier looked at the two Americans curiously. Harm looked at the chubby teenager wearing olive fatigues and sunglasses, "Listen soldier, can we see the witness, we have orders to."  
  
"Sir, forgive me. But I am unaware that Americans have ways of communicating with the dead." The Israeli soldier replied.  
  
As he did, he opened the door and pulled back a tarp. Under the tarp, frozen in rigor mortis, was the half frozen body of an Israeli soldier. His eyes were frozen open and there were four bullet holes in his chest. His weapon was missing, and so was his ammunition. He was a large, muscular fellow in his late twenties with Arabic features.  
  
"Egyptian dogs!" Jacob cursed angrily.  
  
Martin glanced into the jeep and was overcome by a horrible feeling of guilt. "Damn yourselves to Hell you Egyptian bastards! We're coming back for the rest of them!" Martin shouted angrily. Avi's face was frozen with a determined stare. He had obviously gone down shooting, if the bullet wounds in his chest were any indication, and the Egyptians had obviously stolen his weapon and ammunition.  
  
The Israeli driver handed them a sealed envelope, "For the most senior man."  
  
Martin took it and opened it. The other three Israeli soldiers were two privates and one lance corporal, "The figures of Egyptian dead. All told our patrol killed 278 Egyptian soldiers and hospitalized 148 more. Our casualties are five prisoners and three dead."  
  
"We're going in to get them, right?" Jacob, the young Israeli lance corporal, a child of Jewish settlers from the frontier of Lebanon, asked.  
  
"We will." Martin said.  
  
JAG Headquarters Falls Church, Va 8 May 2003 0830 Local Time  
  
"Egyptian intelligence has released further reports that an additional fifty Egyptians were killed by Israeli Special Forces in the Sinai Desert." Stuart Dunston's voice droned on ZNN. Every eye in the bullpen kept their eyes glued to the volatile Middle Eastern situation where two of their co- workers were in the midst of.  
  
AJ Chegwidden knew Harm and Mac could handle anything thrown their way. But this growing Middle Eastern brushfire was most worrying. Harm had called yesterday, informing Colonel Danilov his nephew was still alive. He said Mac was alright as well, and he hoped that they would be alright.  
  
Harriet, Bud, Sturgis, and Danilov were clustered around the coffee pot. "So Martin was a cadet at the Coast Guard Academy and was going to be commissioned in the Israeli Defense Force, sir?" Bud asked.  
  
"How does that work, I mean isn't that a sea service, sir?" Harriet asked.  
  
"It is. But we do have seaports. Martin was to pick up everything he could learn on port security and pass this knowledge on to our personnel. Then he was going to get commissioned as a 2nd Lieutenant in the IDF." Danilov replied, "Almost all his summers were to be spent in Israel doing military training and he was being groomed to join the Sarayet T'zanhanim, the reconnaissance element of the elite T'zanhanim brigade, the Israeli Airborne division."  
  
"Didn't you say he was a Georgetown student, sir?" Harriet asked.  
  
"I did. But that's what I usually say when asked where my nephew was being schooled. That was to confound anyone who might be too curious about our Israeli port security. At any rate, paranoia is a common personality trait in Israel." Danilov replied, with a wry smile, "That was his cover story."  
  
"What about the murdered cadet?" Sturgis asked.  
  
"Her name was Diane or Diana I believe. She was a good friend of his at the Academy. I think, wait I know, Martin fell in love with her. She was on a Coast Guard ship that was touring Israel for part of her summer training when she was kidnapped by terrorists and subsequently murdered." Danilov replied, "His father didn't approve of her, because she wasn't an Israeli, and my brother, a good man though he is, is very traditional and closed minded. He had already tried to cultivate a romance between Martin and another girl in his kibbutz, but Martin refused it. They've barely spoken for seven years. That's when Martin left and joined the Golany brigade. That picture of Martin in uniform beside his father was the last time they ever really spoke as father and son. Now they address one another as sir and corporal depending on who speaks to whom. Sadly it was the issue of romance that has driven a rift in an otherwise perfect father-son relationship."  
  
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 0945 Local Time  
  
Mac and Harm got back to the business of talking to their only living witness to the incident. "Corporal, your uncle said you were a Georgetown University student, but you yourself mentioned being a Coast Guard cadet, which is the truth?" Mac asked.  
  
"Ma'am, when I was sent to America, I was issued with a cover story by the Moussad. The sole reason I was sent to the Academy was to learn American methods for port security. Our seaports are convenient ways that sympathizers for the PLO and HAMAS smuggle weapons into Israel. Myself and a half dozen young Israelis were sent overseas to the Academy to learn these techniques and once we were done we would be commissioned into the Israel Special Forces to teach these techniques to our fellow servicemen." Martin replied.  
  
"How many made it through?" Harm asked.  
  
"Myself and two others left the Academy to fight Arafat's dogs." Martin replied, "The other three remained behind."  
  
"Back to the matter at hand, what happened to Benjamin?" Mac asked.  
  
"We were out of the mountains, but still in deep over our heads when we happened upon a lone Egyptian goat herder ma'am." Martin replied.  
  
Sinai Desert 3 May 2003 2000 Local Time  
  
Hiding in a ditch by the roadside, Martin and Benjamin watched warily, one sleeping lightly while the other kept an eye for any Egyptian soldiers. Martin was on watch when an Egyptian goat herder walked toward the ditch to relieve himself. He grabbed them lad by the neck and pulled his knife.  
  
Neither man spoke Arabic so Benjamin and Martin used hand signals to interrogate the boy. Benjamin portrayed running figures and mimed running figures when he asked the boy if any Egyptian soldiers were around.  
  
The boy shook his head. Benjamin then asked if there were any vehicles nearby. The boy nodded.  
  
"Perfect." Benjamin asked.  
  
"What?" Martin replied.  
  
"There's a settlement nearby, maybe I can find a vehicle and we can drive out of here." Benjamin replied.  
  
"Benjamin are you INSANE!" Martin hissed, "That's an Egyptian village if I recall and they do not like Israelis in the least."  
  
"I'll try to look less aggressive." Benjamin said, taking off his webbing and putting his Minimi down with his camouflage smock.  
  
"No you idiot! If you want to look less aggressive, leave your webbing and smock that's fine, but take your weapon." Martin replied.  
  
"I don't want to look hostile." Benjamin replied  
  
"Take your weapon." Martin insisted, "If you're not back by 0100 I'm going to leave."  
  
"Right." Benjamin said, "If I get caught I don't want to have to get you captured as well."  
  
"Don't talk like that, you've got 200 rounds in the drum to rock n' roll any Egyptians that get into your way." Martin replied.  
  
Martin waited, hiding behind some rocks, his 203 at the ready; he left Benjamin's webbing and a couple extra grenades he got from Avi. He waited, and then waited some more, until he heard shouts in Arabic and bursts of gunfire. He looked over the dune and saw two trucks full of Egyptians, maybe a platoon at the smallest. He could see Benjamin limping along, firing his Minimi as he went. He could already see at least half a dozen dead Egyptians on the ground.  
  
He also knew there was nothing he could do. Even two men couldn't stop fifty angered Egyptians. Two tired men had even less of a chance. With a heavy heart, he slipped away from the fight, feeling as though he had abandoned the boy to his death.  
  
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 1055 Local Time  
  
"So what happened when you were alone?" Mac asked. "Ma'am, I can't honestly recall every detail. I ran into a pair of Egyptian soldiers and killed them at close range with my knife so as not to alert more of their number lurking nearby. I also remember walking across miles of open desert at night, hiding during the day to evade detection and avoid dehydration." Martin replied.  
  
"How did you survive?" Harm asked.  
  
"Luck I guess sir. Also in my lonely state many ghosts from my past visited me." Martin replied.  
  
"How so?" Harm asked.  
  
"I saw memories, faces of people I knew and loved. And they kept me on the march despite the pain, the exhaustion, the cold, heat and fear that plagued me." Martin replied.  
  
Sinai Desert 4 May 2003 0130 Local Time  
  
Martin had been walking miles for hours, but they were largely in a zigzag, box or other pattern to throw off search dogs and box around Egyptian settlements and troop movements. He was hiding in a drainage ditch at one point when an Egyptian vehicle stopped and an Egyptian soldier stepped out to urinate, not more than a foot above where he currently hid.  
  
Martin walked up and down the dunes, through hill and dale, hiding whenever he spotted Egyptian soldiers. He regretted not placing more rations on his webbing, as he felt like he could barely carry his rifle. He knew his body was eating up all the muscle he had put on in the past six months. Six months ago he started weight lifting with Avi and his frame grew more muscular.  
  
"Damn, six months of hard work down the drain." Martin groaned.  
  
As every step carried him closer to what he hoped was safety he could see faces from his past. The first one he saw was Diane. Her smiling face, kind brown eyes framed by her short chestnut hair looked as if not a day had passed in the seven years since her death.  
  
"C'mon Martin," she said, "What happened to the cadet who wouldn't be fazed by physical training?"  
  
New London, Connecticut 11 June 1996 1030 Local Time  
  
Swab year. The first year in the life of a Coast Guard Academy Cadet was over. Summer training was set to start and Martin would put to sea aboard the USCGS Barque Eagle. He was waiting in line to check in for summer training. He saw a very familiar face walking down the passageway and his heart skipped a beat at the sight of his own Lili Marlene.  
  
"Hi Martin." Diane said.  
  
"Hey Diane." The nineteen year old said shyly. Since he had arrived from Israel and finished the summer training for swabs, he remembered Diane befriending him from the first day of class.  
  
"Where'd they send you for training?" Diane asked.  
  
"I've got Eagle cruise first, then I'm going to learn tactical security at the New York Port Authority." Martin replied.  
  
"I got my cruise. I'm going to Haifa aboard the USCGS Bloodhound." Diane replied, smiling.  
  
Martin returned her smile with one of his trademark toothy grins that would grow rarer as they years passed, "Israel's a good place to visit. Much of our history is rich, though turbid and violent. Always make sure you don't travel alone."  
  
He remembered it was when he was home for the Christmas break and training alongside soldiers from the Givati Infantry Brigade he realized he loved her. Her bright smile, kind eyes, and caring personality melted his self built defenses around his heart like butter.  
  
He then saw her walking with Chris Lartin, a friend of hers. He felt his heart start to harden again. He knew that he had no chance. A slim, small boned Israeli teenager had no chance competing with the American for Diane's heart. He knew he couldn't say what he felt though. He desperately wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything in his heart but she had Chris, and didn't need him.  
  
"Martin, have you met my boyfriend, Chris Lartin." Diane replied.  
  
"No, I haven't." Martin replied, managing a smile and a shake of a hand, "Well I must be going."  
  
Sinai Desert 4 May 2003 0200 Local Time  
  
Diane was gone. That much he knew for certain. She had died visiting his homeland, wanting for so long to visit the land where Jesus had once walked. He never even got to tell her he loved her. She was taken away from him by cruel and vengeful men, a victim of the senseless violence that plagued Israel.  
  
He lifted his rifle as he walked along. He could still see Diane, in her dress blue uniform standing atop the next dune. "What are you waiting for Martin? The sun's coming up in another two hours. Come on, just a few more miles and you can rest."  
  
Martin smiled, despite himself. Though he never knew how Diane really felt toward him, he still loved her even seven years after she had died. "I loved her more than you ever did Chris." Martin growled into the desert night, "My heart won't let me love another, while you just jumped into the arms of the next one."  
  
New London, Connecticut 19 September 1996 0930 Local Time Cadet Diane Lynch's Memorial Service  
  
"Diane was a wonderful, vital, alive young woman taken in the prime of her life." Chaplain Roberts began, "She lit up the lives of all those around her with her kind words and gentle nature. She could put a smile on the face of the moon. Perhaps the Lord saw it fit that she was needed in heaven."  
  
Martin listened to the sermon. Diane's burial had been months ago, her funeral was one that he was unable to attend because he was in Israel with the Sarayet Golany doing field exercises. He was there for the wake, and broke down in agony when he saw her for the last time. Her face looked composed, almost as though she were asleep and was set to wake at any moment. But he knew otherwise. She had died of trauma and massive internal injuries and had been dumped in a canal somewhere in the streets of Jerusalem.  
  
A terrible resolve filled Martin that moment, a desire for revenge. All he wanted was to kill the dogs that did this to her.  
  
West Bank 19 September 1997 0800 Local Time  
  
The Palestinian shopkeeper raised a weapon to the Israeli patrol. He thought that the Israelis were distracted and were moving on, but one young boy soldier turned quickly and fired a burst of three rounds into his chest.  
  
The shopkeeper, an old man in his sixties, felt his breath shorten as if a hammer had struck his chest. He gasped for air as the rounds tore into his lungs. He was a HAMAS sympathizer. He hid their people from the Israelis, let them store weapons in his shop and use it as a way station to attack Israelis everywhere. And now he was paying for it. His grown son tried to rush to his side only to be kicked over by the Israeli patrol and held down at gunpoint.  
  
He couldn't speak, gasping breath the only thing he was capable of doing. He could here the Israeli patrol leader's order to the young soldier who had shot him.  
  
"What are you waiting for Danilov, shoot him." The officer ordered.  
  
He could see the young man clearly. His dark brown eyes were clouded with agony and rage, perhaps the HAMAS group had taken some of his loved ones away. The Israelis that had this happen were especially vengeful, but this one was young, different. He looked remorseful, having shot an old man down, even if the old man held an AK-47.  
  
"What are you waiting for soldier, that's an order!"  
  
"Yes sir." Martin said, he hesitated for a minute, then he remembered that men like this had taken Diane away from him.  
  
The old man noticed a change. The Israeli soldier's visage took on that of an avenging angel as he squeezed the trigger.  
  
Martin wiped the blood from his weapon, in that instant a gentle boy had been transformed into a man in the age old tradition of warfare.  
  
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 1215 Local Time  
  
Sitting on a well worn loveseat whose upholstery had seen better days, Harm and Mac discussed everything they had heard from the Israeli soldier. His story about his unit, his flashbacks of previous battles and the memory of a tragic love, seemed to give depth to who had appeared to be little more than an emotionless robot.  
  
Harm could see the pain of seven years etched into the Israeli soldier's face. Vengeance had taken its ghastly toll. Harm could sympathize with the man for his loss. He had lost a once great father son relationship, never got to tell his love how he truly felt about her, and only lived to fight. Harm had a compulsion to tell Mac how he felt about her, before she wound up sharing the fate of the woman their witness had once called "my own Lili Marlene". Or Jordan or his own Diane's fate, which was very possible in their line of work...  
  
"Harm?" Mac said, elbowing him, "Are you alright?"  
  
"Huh. Oh, yeah Mac, I'm good to go." Harm replied.  
  
"Are you sure? You've been spacing out for the past ten minutes." Mac replied.  
  
"Yeah, I'm sure, my own Lili Marlene." Harm replied.  
  
Mac looked a little confused as she turned around, "Harm, did I just here you right? Did you just call me your own Lili Marlene?"  
  
"Oh. I must've not been thinking." Harm replied.  
  
"OK. Maybe I should have you see a psychiatrist before you start singing German marching songs in your sleep." Mac said, with a weak attempt at humor. She somehow knew that Harm hadn't just slipped when he called her his own Lili Marlene. Mac knew, from her own historical interest, that Lili Marlene was a classic German infantry song that transcended all nationalities, about a soldier thinking about his lost lover.  
  
Harm knew about the song, because when he first fell for his own Diane she was seeing someone else. The song Lili Marlene helped him express his grief that she loved someone else at the time. Though it was sung by German soldiers in North Africa in World War II, its lyrics about the soldier's longing for a faraway love really had its meaning. For Harm, there were only two women in his mind that had the name Lili Marlene in his mental imagery. The first was Diane, long since dead. The other was Mac.  
  
He inched closer to her, ostensibly to put a little more of his food on her tray. Mac surprisingly didn't pull away. She inched closer in and Harm smiled at her. This was yet another of their subtle attempts at flirting.  
  
Martin watched them and smiled, despite himself. 'I hope, sir, that you act on your feelings for the colonel before you lose her. Like I lost my own Lili Marlene.'  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Coming next, the fate of Red Witch patrol and the accounts of the other survivors... 


	5. My Own Lili Marlene

My Own Lili Marlene  
  
Disclaimer: Same as before. Lili Marlene is owned by Vera Lynn and not me.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 1245 Local Time  
  
"Oh my God, Harm, look." Mac said, nudging her partner, pointing him towards the small television set.  
  
"We've just received unconfirmed reports that Israeli Special Forces teams have been making at least a dozen more incursions into Egyptian territory in the past forty-eight hours." Stuart Dunston continued as the ZNN Broadcast wore on, "Seven Egyptian army officers have been reported as missing according to a source in the Egyptian Parliament."  
  
Several of the Moussad personnel began to leave the tiny lounge. Ilsa walked up to Harm and Mac and said, "Commander, Colonel, you'll have to speak to Corporal Danilov here. We have immediate need of the interrogation room."  
  
Harm looked out the door to see half a dozen blindfolded men in the uniforms of the Egyptian army being led through the passage by Israeli commandoes. "Sir!" Martin shouted, "I do not think that this is a wise choice of action."  
  
Rahim Al-Batani showed up with his K-9 and two flak jackets, "Sir, ma'am, Colonel Danilov requests that these be issued to the two visiting American officers."  
  
"Thank you private." Harm said, "Dismissed."  
  
"Aye sir." Batani replied.  
  
After Batani had left the room, Harm asked, "What can you tell us about those six men I just saw?"  
  
"Sir, I cannot give you that information. It is a matter of national security that could result in my imprisonment or execution." Martin replied, "But all I can say is that Egyptian military operations in the Sinai are going to be moving a lot slower now that they're out of the picture."  
  
"This just in. Palestinian Liberation Organization Security Commander Hamid Sarhouk was just killed by Israeli Special Forces in the West Bank while organizing an Israeli expulsion campaign. Captured in the raid were large stockpiles of Soviet manufactured weapons believed to have originated in Egypt..." Dunston droned on.  
  
Martin knew more about this than met the eye. For the sake of Israeli national security and the safety of the two American officers he didn't reveal what he knew. This was part of Operation Manhunt. It was a concerted Israeli counterterrorism program that would systematically kill, and not capture, key personnel in Arafat's Palestinian Liberation Organization. The entire effort was to take no less than forty eight hours to completely break the backs of the Palestinian leadership in a series of rapid, covert, and decisive strikes by Israeli commandoes.  
  
"Back on track." Harm replied, "What happened after Benjamin's capture."  
  
"Well, I decided on the original escape and evasion plan and head to the US camp." Martin replied.  
  
Sinai Desert 4 May 2003 0500 Local Time  
  
"Underneath the lantern. By the barrack gate. Darling I remember. The way you used to wait. 'Twas there that you whispered tenderly. That you loved me. You'd always be. My Lili of the lamplight. My own Lili Marlene." Martin sang to himself as he walked along the road.  
  
Tactically it was stupid. Hundreds of Egyptians used this road on a daily basis. And lo and behold he could hear approaching footsteps. He took cover behind some dunes and held his 203 at the ready. He was 100 percent certain that this was the end. The end of his life, he was certain.  
  
It was a pair of Egyptian soldiers walking down the road, carrying AK-47s and not being particularly tactical. Their weapons were slung over their shoulders and both were smoking cigarettes and yammering in Arabic. Martin unsheathed his knife slowly, as they stopped, finding his footsteps about fifty feet to his right. He snuck around behind them, his 203 slung over his shoulder. His knife was drawn as he snuck behind the rearmost Egyptian and cut his throat. The first one fell and the second one turned in time to see Martin running noiselessly his way and saw Martin shove the combat knife's blade into his ceratoid artery and sever it.  
  
It was particularly horrifying; no matter how many times he had committed this deed. All six of the faces of those he killed in this way were right in front of his face. Those that he shot weren't the same, because it was almost like shooting down a silhouette target in basic training. Those that he killed at close range, close enough to smell their last breath, stayed in his dreams forever.  
  
He remembered the parting words of an old soldier from his Golany Brigade. "Never look into the eyes of those that you kill, they haunt you forever. Believe me I know this."  
  
"Grigori, you were right." Martin groaned. Grigori Yemelyan was a Russian immigrant to Israel, who had been fighting for the nation since 1982 and was a veteran of covert operations all around the Middle East. The warm, friendly youth Martin had been but seven years prior was largely missing. He only wished to destroy the worthless scum responsible for Diane's death. But with each kill he felt farther and farther away from the innocence of his youth.  
  
Martin ducked into a small gulley that was concealed from view and took stock of his equipment. He still had his last 66mm rocket and disposable launcher and about five more 203 bombs left. He had seven out of the twelve magazines he left with as well. As the day wore on he went and cleaned his 203 and checked his feet, one foot at a time. Lancing blisters and bandaging them as best he could he put his boots back on and waited for the night.  
  
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 1305 Local Time  
  
"So what happened after that?" Harm asked.  
  
"I kept walking for two days where I encountered another large Egyptian contingent." Martin replied.  
  
Sinai Desert 5 May 2003 2300 Local Time  
  
The sound of trucks coming his way was enough to make Martin stop his route. He could see headlights, two of them. At first they turned away, for a while, but then they returned and Martin could hear the voices of several Egyptian soldiers.  
  
"Shit." Martin groaned, as he lifted up the 66mm rocket, aiming it at the nearer of the two Egyptian vehicles. As soon as it was in range, he let fly.  
  
The Egyptian truck stopped in its tracks as if struck by a giant hammer and then flashed in a great gust of flame as its fuel and ammunition exploded. Martin could see three Egyptian soldiers, cloaked in flames running through the desert, shrieking in agony. There was no time for remorse as he lined his 203 on the second truck and fired off a 40mm grenade into the front cab that killed both driver and front passenger.  
  
Amazingly the Egyptians didn't try to chase him. Instead they fired off their weapons in a 360 degree arc, thinking they had been attacked by another Israeli patrol. Martin took advantage of the confusion to sneak away, firing off another couple of 203 grenades and bursts as he hooked around the enemy unit.  
  
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 1400 Local Time  
  
"How large a unit do you think you faced?" Mac asked.  
  
"I'd estimate an under strength platoon, twenty-five people most likely ma'am." Martin replied, "I had to disable their vehicles to hinder their efforts to chase me."  
  
"Understood." Harm said, "Mac, I'm gonna go have a talk with the other four members of our witness' team, see if I can't get a statement."  
  
"Be careful flyboy." Mac replied, half-jokingly.  
  
"Easy, Mac, I'm only gonna be five feet down the hall." Harm replied.  
  
"I know, but for some reason this building's been the target of a lot of hostility lately." Mac replied.  
  
Martin visibly stiffened when she said this. Those Egyptian Army officers his fellow team members had captured were obviously being held here. It was very possibly Egypt was bribing Palestinians to try and liberate them and thus get a chunk of Israel as payment. Not if he had anything to do with it. Martin swore he would die fighting to prevent some other young woman from sharing Diane's fate or some other young man from dealing with his angst.  
  
"So what happened next?" Mac asked, getting back on track, trying to get back to the case.  
  
"I kept on the move until I ran into the American camp's perimeter guard..."  
  
Sinai Desert 6 May 2003 0200 Local Time  
  
Martin had been walking for days on end. Benjamin, Avi, everyone else in the patrol. Where were they? Dead surely, or wishing they were. Arabs were not particularly predisposed to following the Geneva Conventions especially if the prisoners were Israeli Special Forces personnel.  
  
Where exactly was he? It had been hours since he even bothered to check his map or compass direction. He was so out of it, hunger, thirst, exhaustion from no real sleep, all had caught up to him rather violently. "Halt!" he heard the challenge. It was an American accented voice that he recognized as being from the Southern part of the nation.  
  
"Step forward and identify yourself."  
  
Martin saw four American soldiers, rifles in hand. He put down his 203, raising his hands, palms facing the Americans. They picked up his weapon and he gave his cover story as an American Special Forces NCO separated from his patrol. They let him into the compound to a small tent where several US Army officers were cloistered around a map table.  
  
"We know you're not an American." One of them, a major, began, "The question is, what is Israel doing in the Sinai this time?"  
  
"I cannot tell you sir." Martin replied, "I can only inform you that the operation is of a covert nature and should I reveal any more I would be violating the standing orders of my government."  
  
"Bob, call Washington up. We might have a situation here." The major replied.  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 1430 Local Time  
  
Harmon Rabb had a sneaking suspicion that the reason why this field office kept falling under attack was because of those six Egyptian Army Officers he saw being squirreled away by Israeli commandoes. He walked into the ground floor garage of the building where he saw the four other members of Martin's team that had not been on the operation in the Sinai.  
  
"Officer on deck!" Mgambe shouted, with his trademark African accent.  
  
"At ease." Harm said. The soldiers all sat down, to a man looking like kids with their hands caught in the cookie jar despite their seemingly easy going demeanor. Jesus, most of them weren't even out of their teens. He noticed all four had their weapons within easy reach.  
  
It was like a children's crusade, except to a man these boys were hardened by months and lifetimes of warfare. Martin himself had said that every man on his team had lost someone close to them to the terrorist attacks, had a relative, friend, or lover killed or disabled by the HAMAS group.  
  
Rahim's German shepherd sniffed at Harm curiously and started to lick his hand. The young man grinned, "That's a first sir. He usually doesn't like strangers, and officer strangers in particular."  
  
Mgambe laughed in turn, "There was the Inspector General incident where Lot bit the rear end of a very important official of the Israeli police."  
  
"Every newcomer to our unit has been bitten by this particular mongrel sir." Martin replied. He was walking slightly ahead of Mac.  
  
"They've found another member of our patrol. Haru." Amit said, soberly, breaking into the conversation.  
  
All of the other four men knew, judging from Amit's words and disposition that Haru was dead. "A patrol found his body in the desert not three kilometers from the border. The Egyptians killed him where they lay and just left him to rot." Amit replied, bitterly.  
  
"Those bastards." Jacob hissed, cradling his CAR-15 menacingly.  
  
"When are we going in?" Haru asked Martin.  
  
"When we are ordered to do so." Martin replied, with a cool, even tone that masked the roiling emotion within.  
  
Harm and Mac stood off to one side, observing the conversation. Even though it had shifted into Hebrew, a language neither spoke, Harm could guess that Martin was now the senior man and was clearly uncomfortable at this time.  
  
"If David was alive, we'd be going across the border now to help the others." Amit growled bitterly, he was choking back tears.  
  
"Stand down soldier!" Martin replied, his voice taking the tone of a sergeant down dressing an unruly private, "We've all lost someone dear to us in this war. I know you lost your sweetheart Amit, but we must wait until we have orders."  
  
"Damn it, David and the others could be dying out there!" Amit replied.  
  
"Amit, what good is it gonna do us if we die ourselves." Martin replied.  
  
"We will at least die trying to help our own!" Amit insisted.  
  
"Amit, if we do that, we will be wasting four more lives." Martin replied, "We will find the others, we must have faith."  
  
"Harm?" Mac asked, "Are you alright?"  
  
"Huh," Harm said, he seemed a little lost in thought, "Mac, I'm alright."  
  
"There's a lot of you that you see in our witness, don't you?" Mac asked Harm.  
  
"Correct counselor." Harm finished with a wry grin. He could see the same grief stricken darkness in Martin that he had suffered when Diane had been murdered. Only in this case Martin had little to fear in attacking Palestinians with his unit shortly after his Diane had been killed, "Mac, I'm alright, seriously."  
  
"Harm, don't push me away like that." Mac said. Harm hated it whenever she looked like she was about to cry and this moment seemed like one of them.  
  
"Mac," Harm began, "It's just that I can see myself in Danilov's shoes after his beloved died. That's exactly how I felt after Diane had been murdered."  
  
Mac knew that Harm carried a lot of emotional grief under his strong exterior, the death of his father and Diane's murder were just two of those things. The story of this Israeli soldier seemed to bring the latter of those two ghosts into the forefront. Even the name of his lost love shared the same name as Harm's old Academy sweetheart.  
  
Mac looked at Danilov for a brief moment, seeing almost exactly what Harm had seen in the soldier. There was a network of wrinkles, small ones, around his eyes, careworn and aged before their time in countless firefights throughout Israel.  
  
Harm's face was impassive, as usual, but Mac knew him well enough to know the roiling emotions underneath. She could remember seeing it when Martin told his story about how he had returned to Israel to avenge his lost love. She could practically feel Harm dredging up old memories again. It was disconcerting to see her pillar of strength seeming to crumble, but Mac knew that she had to be strong for Harm right now for he had never failed her in the past.  
  
Harm was dealing with a ghost from the past, true. But that wasn't his main concern. His biggest fear was seeing Mac sharing Diane's fate. In this volatile Middle East brushfire, Mac could easily find herself in jeopardy. He couldn't let that happen, not as long as he was alive. He was going to do everything in his power to keep safe his own Lili Marlene.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Time would come for roll call  
  
Time for us to part  
  
Darling I'd caress you  
  
And press you to my heart  
  
And there neath that far off lantern light  
  
I'd hold you tight  
  
We'd kiss good night  
  
My Lili of the lamplight  
  
My own Lili Marlene  
  
Orders came for sailing  
  
Somewhere over there  
  
All confined to barracks  
  
'Twas more than I could bear  
  
I knew you were waiting in the street  
  
I heard your feet  
  
But could not meet  
  
My Lili of the lamplight  
  
My own Lili Marlene  
  
Resting in our billet  
  
Just behind the line  
  
Even though we're parted  
  
Your lips are close to mine  
  
You wait where that lantern softly gleamed  
  
Your sweet face seems  
  
To haunt my dreams  
  
My Lili of the lamplight  
  
My own Lili Marlene  
  
My Lili of the lamplight  
  
My own Lili Marlene. 


End file.
